The Remnant
by Dieter Bron
Summary: Story about the military exploits of a Mandalorian unit set during the Mandalorian Wars era called the 5th Ori'ramikade. "The Remnant"
1. Chapter 1

WARNING: I do not own the Star Wars franchise nor do I have an official license from George Lucas to write this. Maybe someday though...

This is my very first fan fic.

The Remnant

*** Chapter 1 ***

The wind whipped through the air, carrying the smells of the battlefield to the noses of all those who weren't in combat gear. Over no man's land, where bodies lay rotting in the tri-sun's glare, over the armored battlements, scarred from months of war. The hot wind swirled around the grim eyed warriors who stared, immobile, out to the field where the carrion raks were hard at work stripping flesh from the dead. It carried on, past the thickened bunkers. Their sides scorched from bombardments that cropped up more often than the frequent sand storms. The wind whipped ragged banners bearing the mythosaur skull out straight, showing the wear and tear of the years. One banner finally gave up the fight and swirled away on the breeze. It floated down the dusty streets where warriors trod, catching the jagged edges of crates, the ditirus of three months of war. It floated up in a sudden updraft of wind and snaked over the smoking forge where repairs were made to equipment and armor. The ragged banner shot through the air as though on a mission and finally settled on top of a ragged, patched tent. The walls were heavily sandbagged. Few warriors walked near the foreboding tent. Two warriors in battle scarred armor with assault rifles, lounged near the entrance, seemingly asleep. The colors on their armor were nigh indistinguishable due to the carbon scoring and scratched paint, if one looked closely one could almost see dull gray bands on their helmets and gauntlets, not that anyone wanted to stare too closely to the Tratur. To do so was to invite almost instantaneous challenge. One that few would want, and even fewer would win. Especially these Tratur, The banner hanging outside the tent, one of the few things that seemed to be in good repair, depicted the mythosaur skull, but had two humanoid skulls depicted as well. This banner belonged to the 5th Ori'ramikade, known as the Remnant. Those who were left over, survivors from other units, men and women who's experience was forged through harsh combat, leaving only the most dedicated, deadly Mandalorians to survive. The warriors standing outside had kill markings on their helms or buy'ce that rivaled that of warriors twice their age.

A young lieutenant strode through the dust, his red armor was freshly painted, the colors bold on his suit. The blue on his buy'ce and gauntlets marking him out as a Ver'alor. Trotting after him was a young warrior whose armor had more battle damage than that of the the Ver'alor though his black markings showed he was a corporal or Alor'uus as it was better known. He kept trying to slow the impetuous new officer and show him the data pad he was holding.

"Sir, you need to read this prior to speaking to the men. These are not your typical warriors" The officer whirled about, the dust painting his boots.

"Alor'uus, when I need your opinion, I will ask for it. I am a Ver'alor and the men will show me respect." The Alor'uus rolled his eyes inside his buy'ce. He had more kills then the officer.

"Sir I..."

"Where are they located?" Demanded the Ver'alor cutting off the nervous young man. His helmeted head swiveling looking at the various tents and buildings around him. The young NCO pointed a hand trough the bustling streets to the dark tent tucked away against the cliff side. The officer pushed through the crowd, almost stumbling on his face when the press abruptly lessened twenty paces from the 5th's tent. He glanced back to see if the NCO had seen him and composed himself. He had finally gotten command after years of maneuvering. He was even going to command an Ori'ramikade unit. It was a huge honor being able to command a unit of Commandos which was something that few were privileged to do. Striding up to the tent with his shoulders back and his head held high, he addressed the two Ori' on duty both who wore the old spike covered crusader armor.

"I am here to see who ever is in charge, you will tell him to report to me now" The officer continued walking and made to step into the tent between the two men on duty. In a flash they were on their feet. Both had their assault rifles pressed to their shoulders and pointed directly at the officer's head.

"No sir" the one on the left stated firmly.

"Do you have the proper clearance to enter sir?" the other asked. The warrior's finger twitched on the trigger, ready to unleash a fusillade of rounds at point blank range. The Ver'alor bristled with anger and went to brush the weapons aside.

"I am a Ver'alor and you will do as you are told!" He demanded. The weapons expertly avoided his hands and remained trained on his head. The NCO finally caught up with the group,

"Sorry sir, got a little caught up back there. Here is his authorization code" handing over the data pad. One of the Ori' took the pad while the other continued to point his weapon at the officer who at this point was steaming mad. If he hadn't been armored you would have seen his face blazing bright red. The NCO smirked beneath his helm. After a minute the guard who had taken the data pad handed it back.

"You check out, you can proceed. The Ruus'alor Sol'vc is expecting you" The guards withdrew their weapons and settled back to their seats as though nothing had happened. The officer looked at the both of them.

"Disgraceful, make sure to put both of yourselves on report!"

When the guards just waved their hands in a dismissive gesture the Ver'alor stated haughtily as he stormed by

"Fine, I will tell the Ruus'alor Sol'vc about your attitudes towards an officer". The Alor'uus waited until the officer headed inside.

"New Forges" he said almost apologetic. The two Ori' nodded as he followed the officer inside.

Stepping inside the tent was like walking into another world altogether. It was just dark enough that it took a moment for his auto-visor to adjust, as did his vision. Seated behind a durasteel barrier with a firing slot was another warrior with his weapon trained on the door, and the officer as well, as he was standing in the door. The nearest trooper, seemed to be busy cleaning his rifle, the components were all close by. A blaster pistol sat within inches of the troopers hand. The only part of his armor he had removed was his buy'ce. It sat on the bench to his left readily available at a moments notice. The Ver'alor removed his helmet and stalked towards the trooper.

"Where is your Ruus'alor Sol'vc?" The trooper, without looking up, jerked his left thumb over his shoulder towards a recess at the far back of the enclosure. The Alor'uus realized with a start that only the very front of the area was actually in the tent. The rest of it had been dug back into the cliff face and reinforced with iron beams. The space was one large cavern with bunks along each wall and room for gear and weapons. In one corner two of the Ori' stripped down to their skivvy shorts sparred with bare blades. Their chalk white scars from years of combat stood out on their skin as they shifted and lunged in the small circle. The other troopers seemed to ignore them apart from a hard looking woman who scowled at the two of them. Her blackened armor had the markings of a sergeant or Ruus'alor. None of the warriors in the cavern so much as spared more than one glance at the officer and NCO walking through their space towards the room at the far side of the cavern.

As they stepped within the room they noticed the spartan conditions of the area. Along one wall was a rarely used cot, similar to the ones in rows in the big cavern. Against the back wall on an armor stand was the breastplate, arms and buy'ce of a set of Crusader style Beskar'gam. A custom heavy assault rifle hung from a peg above it. Sitting on an ammo crate that was almost devoid of the drab green paint, and hunched over another two that were being used as a desk. Sat a man who looked like the war was part of his very soul. His dark brown hair was close cropped. His weathered face looked like the ravines on a mountain with a pale white star burst shaped scar surrounding his left eye. He sat in his shirt sleeves. The armored under body suit laying loose around his hips with the hip, leg and foot armor still attached. Both his arms were obviously not what he had been born with, being made of metal and plasteel that mimicked the originals. Stacked neatly on the improvised desk were data pads relating to all number of things. The hilt of a sword peeked over the corner next to his right hand, and what looked like a disintegrator was carefully tucked under a few data pads on his left.

"I want to report that our troops are lazy and ill-mannered, lacking in proper discipline and military courtesies." Stated the Ver'alor as soon as he stepped inside. Without looking up the man behind the desk simply grunted. "Well" he demanded. "What are you going to do about it?" The man behind the desk sighed and placed the data pad he was reading down on the ammo crate. When he looked up it was like looking into separate targeting lasers only not nearly as friendly. The Alor' shuddered as he considered heading for the door. The right eye was brown, the left was obviously augmetic and both fixed the Ver' like a dart through a fly.

"Me," his voice like the sound of boulders rolling down a hill "I am not going to do a frakken thing. My men are highly trained and as you have failed to properly identify yourselves, are lucky I haven't shot you already and dumped your bodies over the wall." The officer was so taken aback that his mouth gaped open and shut like a fish. "Obviously you must have some sort of clearance or you never would have made it this far. So?" Recognizing his clue the Alor'uus stepped forward, not at all comfortable as those targeting lasers locked him in their gaze. Staring at the data pad he was able to control the tremor in his voice as he read off the order, but only just.

"Effective immediately by order of the Al'verde of the Army. Ver'alor Quarmar, Kwyntehst is to assume command of the 5th Ori'ramikade. All ranks are to give due respect and follow all orders given from the Ver'alor until such time as he relieved of command. For the honor of the Manda'lor, all Mando'a and the Army. Signed Al'verde L'hnnar, Noval. Commanding." placing the data pad on the desk the NCO stepped back. If targeting lasers could be anymore unfriendly, the Sol'vc's eyes were now making them look like something the Alor' would wish to see. The Ver'alor drew himself up to his full height and raised his nose into the air.

"So as you see Ruus'alor Sol'vc Nunes. I am now your commanding officer. Therefore I want you to subject the two Ori'ramikade on guard duty to disciplinary action immediately." The Sol'vc without glancing in the Alor'uus' direction snarled,

"Get out."

with a simple

"Sol'vc" and a bow the frightened NCO ducked out of the room. As he did so a snarled order in some sort of confusing combat cant issued from the cavern behind him. He watched as every single Ori' stopped what they were doing and donned their buy'ce. He followed suit and hit the external audio mute like he saw all the others do.

Inside the ad-hoc office, the temperature seemed to hit sub zero. The Ver'alor was looking confused at the bustle of activity outside the office. He went to put his own helmet on until he looked and saw that the Sol'vc hadn't even moved.

"Listen here, you pretentious arrogant runt of a Twi'lek." The Sol'vc started quietly leaning forward on his ammo crate bench. "I have been fighting since I was twelve years old. I got my first kill then. That was nigh on fifteen years ago. Back when you were still sucking at your momma's titty." The officer's eyes widened to the size of small dinner plates and he tried to interrupt.

"Now look here..." He started but was abruptly cut off.

"Shut your milk sucking whine hole." The Sol'vc growled rising from his bench. "You think just because the Al'Verde of the ARMY signs an order, you are in charge of this bunch of hardened combat veterans. You can't even fight your way out of a wet paper sack. Your combat record is nill, you have no duels accounted for, and you have the nerve to think you can just walk in here and take over." The officers eyes bugged even further from his skull and he became red in the face. He opened his mouth, but never got to start.

"First off I do not report to the Al'Verde of the Army, I report ONLY to the Al'Verde Ori'ramikade. If you think I am going to LET you take over my unit and get most of MY men killed in the first seconds of your incompetent command, you have another frakkin thing coming." The Sol'vc's right hand came forward and jabbed at the Ver'alor's face, all five fingers held straight and rigid with the tips pointing directly at the officer's face the palm facing down.

"The old ways are STILL followed in the Ori'ramikade. If you want to command MY unit, you MUST initiate challenge. Not that I would accept from you, my baby brother would put up a better fight than you. Besides you might scratch that pretty newly forged 'Neo-Crusader' armor of yours, and we wouldn't want that! Now get the frak out of my sight, go back to command and kiss their backsides like you seem so well at doing, else you never would have gotten this command. Or, by the Manda'lor's sweaty ball sack, I will personally kick your lily livered ass from here back to your momma's womb." While saying this the Sol'vc drove the Ver'alor out of his office and into the center of the cavern with the firm knife hand jabbing him in the chest. The paint on the Ver'alor's armor actually being scratched by the force of it.

"If those useless old farts up at Army command have a problem with it, tell them they can come down here and I will tell them the same straight to their faces. Now get out before I have the troopers throw you out."

So saying he turned on his heel and strode away from the shocked, frightened and embarrassed Ver'alor. The Sol'vc made the hand sign for all clear and the troopers all removed their buy'ce. The Ver'alor was white with rage and raised his hand,

"HOW DARE YOU!" he roared. But it sounded like a kitten after a lion compared to the Sol'vc. The Sol'vc simply made another hand sign and every single trooper rounded on the Ver'alor. They grabbed him up and starting carrying him out, despite his struggles and declarations

"I am a Ver'alor, I will personally feed you to the dragons, I will have every one of you whipped for your insolence. Get your hands off me!" His demands fell on deaf ears as the men and women of the 5th Ori'ramikade forced him from their lair. The young Alor'uus, aghast, followed along behind as he watched them throw the officer on his face in the dust before the tent. A few warriors looked from the passersby but quickly glanced away when they saw from where he had been thrown. The now disgraced officer sprang up and drew his pistol.

"I am going to shoot every one of you and feed you to the dragons!" he raged until a shot rang out and his pistol flew from his hand.

"I am sorry, sir, we can't let you do that. Any further action will be considered a threat towards us and appropriate lethal action will be taken." Stated the guard whose weapon was pressed to his shoulder and was sighting along the weapon. It was no longer on the officers hand, but instead on the weak point at the neck.

"Pick up, holster your weapon and leave, or you will be dealt with" the other guard stated. The now dust covered officer glared at the two guards as he retrieved his pistol and returned it to his holster.

"Names and ranks" he demanded fuming but realizing that he had crossed the line.

"Apinea, Aesho, Tratur First Class, 1/1, 5th Ori'ramikade"

"Pareja, Sylvain, Tratur First Class, 1/1, 5th Ori'ramikade" they replied almost in unison.

"I'll remember you!" The officer spat as he stomped away, glaring at anyone who looked at him in the wrong way.

"New Forges" the Alor'uus cursed shaking his head as he hurried to catch up with the retreating officer.

Cal Nunes watched as his men returned from tossing the impetuous officer from the confines of their bunker. Not one of them said anything, or did any of the celebrating that other less experienced troops might have. They simply returned to what they had been doing, exercises, repairing equipment and armor, or the favorite of all experienced troops. Catching up on sleep, something that was valued almost as highly as a challenging kill. Sleep, something he rarely had time for. To be honest he wouldn't mind having a Ver'alor in charge, however, that Quamar was just too much of a fung to be useful, he would have gotten almost all of these men killed. The grizzled Sol'vc stood in his doorway and watched the proud men and women of the 5th go about their daily routine. He sighed and turned to go back into his room. The data pads demanded his attention, "What I wouldn't give for something to distract me from them." he thought.

"Excuse me Sol'vc" he recognized the voice of his radio operator, Alor'uus Orono. She was the smartest person in the unit. She could almost talk to computers in a way that confused anyone else. She had been fighting for almost eight years though she looked young. She's only twenty, he reminded himself.

"Yes Alor'?" he said. She held out another data pad.

"Just tell me what's on it Silvia" he sighed, rubbing his right eye. It felt as though it was ready to fall out of his face, he was so tired of reading those grainy screens.

"Orders from Ver'alor Al'verde, and an apology." she said.

"What does the Lieutenant Commander want, and why would she send an apology?"

"She sends; prepare for a special mission at 2200, need the 5th's special touch. Sorry for the fung. Al'verde Ori'ramikade has been notified. Will sort this out. Expect you and command in Ori' command ASAP. Then she signs it Aria." The Alor' knew better to ask. No officer would sign something so personally. The 5th had been around so long that no one cared anymore, and knew to keep emotions separate from their professional lives.

"Get me Rosario"

"Yes Sol'vc" She hurried away to find the grizzled old Staff Sergeant. Tratur Ruus'alor Tanomas Rosario was Cal's oldest comrade. He had been fighting for twelve years, the second longest of any in the 5th Ori'ramikade. Cal turned and headed into his room, hoisting the armored battle suit around his shoulders, he zipped the triple layered seal closed and pulled the hood onto his head. Next he hoisted the heavy beskar'gam onto his shoulders and started to strap it in place. The heavy internal generator sat at the small of his back. It would weigh him down until he hooked the electrical leads into place and powered up the internal skeleton of his suit. He had one of the most expensive and protected suits in the arsenal. He recited the ancient Mandalorian oath as he hooked the leads into place. As he powered up his suit he felt the internal atmosphere kick in. His suit made him faster, stronger and able to absorb more punishment. It had been repaired hundreds of times in his career, it had been gifted to him after a Jedi had removed both his arms with a lightsaber. In a way it was a blessing, both his arms were now made out of beskar'gam and plasteel. They also made him stronger and faster than he had been. He placed his buy'ce onto his head and plugged the leads in. His HUD ran through a start up sequence and synced with his artificial eye. He had lost that when a sniper had hit him twice in the exact same spot in his visor. It had taught him to always be moving on the battlefield.

"Cal" said the hard clear voice of Rosario, interrupting his reverie. Turning, now fully armored the Sol'vc gave his orders.

"Tratur Ruus' get the men combat ready, assemble the command squad, you have ten minutes" Rosario nodded and turned, his voice booming through the enclosed area.

"Right you lazy bastards, suited, booted and strapped in five! MOVE IT!" The call was taken up by the Ruus'alor and then the Alor'uus. The men and women of the 5th grabbed up their gear, then turned to help their squad mates. During that time the Sol'vc turned and lifted his custom heavy assault rifle from it's place. He checked the action, and loaded a magazine. Slinging it, he turned and grabbed his personal side arm, the Mandalorian Ripper was a formidable weapon, and only high ranking officers normally carried it. He silently thanked Aria for the gift, next he picked up his vibro sword made of Beskgar. He pressed the activation stud and felt it cycle before deactivating it and sliding it into the sheath on his back. He checked his pouches, comm and various knives strapped about his person. As he stepped out of his room the men were formed up into their squads ready to go. Only two were still strapping on their armor, Nunes checked his chrono, it had only been two minutes. The two finished strapping in and arming themselves well within the five minute mark.

"Right," Nunes's voice issued from his external speakers. "We have an activation order." no one spoke. Not a big surprise there. "Command squad with me." The members of his command squad formed up on him as he headed towards the exit of the tent.

As they exited the tent the two guards nodded to the command squad. Mantisa inclined his head towards the banner wondering if he needed to grab the standard. Being the Color Ruus'alor he always wondered if he should grab it, even heading to chow. The 5th spoke only when they needed to, this was not one of those times. Nunes's fingers flickered through silent combat code, "No, soon" even their silent communication was short and sweet. The Sol'vc looked over his command, looking for imperfections or missing equipment. Not that he would find anything wrong, his men all knew that their survival depended on themselves. Senior Tratur Ruus'alor Rosario in his battle scarred plate, his kill markings proudly painted on his helmet, nearly obscuring the original paint. Alor'uus Orono, his master comm operator seemed dwarfed and thin compared to the hulking men on either side of her. The plate on her had several extra ports and was carefully cleaned. More so than any other in the 5th. Tratur Ruus'alor Mantisa stood perfectly still, his hands resting on the mythosaur axe on his belt and the handle of his dis integrator on the other. Senior Tratur Araluu seemed to be in motion, even while standing still. The energy radiating from him was in hard counterpoint to the others around him. He had the most Jedi kills out of any of the Ori'ramikade. He was a master swordsman and took great pride in being the best, watching him work was truly a privilege. The handles of his twin Baskard, or short swords rested at his hips and his assault rifle hung from his back. Those blades were razor sharp and had sheared through solid durasteel before like a hot knife through butter. He had a sweet tooth for Uj'alayi, a sweet cake. Apparently Silvia made the best Uj' around, it was no wonder that Josh Araluu was sweet on her. With a nod Nunes turned on his heel and started walking towards the command bunker. The crowd parted in front of him and his. No one wanted to get on the wrong side of the Ori', and certainly fewer wanted to get on the wrong side of the 5th. A rumor was going around stating that the Ruus'alor Sol'vc had killed six veteran troopers with his bare hands when one of them insulted the 5th drunk on Tihaar liquor. It had only been three, but he didn't see any point disabusing them of that notion. The original green and blue of his suit was so hidden by battle damage that one would think he had painted it black and silver. The only paint that did stand out were the forest green markings of his rank, and the multiple kill markings displayed on his buy'ce. Approaching the command bunker, the crowd thinned and only two Ori' guards from the 1st were at the door. They nodded with respect and motioned for him to go through.

Inside, the Ori'ramikade command stood around a map table, fixated on whatever was being displayed. In the shadowy background many low ranking troopers worked on banks of electrical equipment, or operated comms. The Ver'alor Al'verde looked up as he and his entered. Her bright green eyes flashing from under short locks of brilliant orange-red hair. The scar running from her left eye across her nose and down her right cheek stood out pale white between the ranks of freckles on her face. She smiled as he entered,

"Cal, glad you made it here so quick. We have a mission for you to preform." Always straight to the point, something he enjoyed about her. She motioned for the tech to boost the display and a three dimensional image appear before him.

"The damn Republics are ramping up their operations, we need to slow them down. We can't get anywhere near their lines with their heavy artillery and those are too well protected. However," she said, switching to a smaller sector of the display. "The ammo dumps for them are not. The weather tonight will be too turbulent for them to fly and is reducing the effectiveness of all air cover. Perfect for a surgical strike. You and your engineers will be issued with as much detonite as they can carry. At 2200 you will step off as we create a diversion further down the line. Blow up the ammo dumps, and cause as much chaos as you can before returning. No vendetta or trophy kills unless you have no choice. This must be done so that the Republic dogs know we can strike at anytime." With a nod to show he understood, Cal motioned for Orono to copy the schematics to her hand held equipment. Checking his chrono he estimated how much time he would need to get in position. It was ten past 2000 just enough time to get to the staging point and issue orders. As his command filed out past him, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Cal, be careful, there are several Jedi in the area and we fear that they will use their witchery to figure out our plans." her worried look flashed to one of playfulness. "Please be careful, I have another mission for you after you return" Her eyes sparkled as she drew away to attend to something else. A rare smile twitched his lips under his buy'ce as he walked outside to his waiting command.

"Alor' radio the 5th the jump off point, no basilisks or dragons. We do this all on foot." She nodded as she complied, he heard the order go out over his buy'ce's internal speakers. He hated to leave his war basilisk behind, nothing quite like going into battle mounted on one. The shear fury one could unleash caused even those damn Jedi to run in fear. With a shake of his head he started off at a jog, his command falling in with him immediately, no communication was needed with those he had fought beside for such a length of time. Jogging through the dusty streets he saw other Mandalorians jump out of his squads way. Rounding a corner he spotted Ver'alor Quamar standing in the middle of the street with other New Forges, all wearing Neo-Crusader armor, the few words Nunes did catch were all directed at him and the men of the 5th. Breaking into a dead run, he charged straight down the street. One of the New Forges saw him and let out a yelp. Quarmar turned and saw the 5th's whole command squad charging his way, his eyes became as large as radio dishes and he dove into a waste pile to avoid the mass of heavy, spiked armor that was coming towards him. Without a word, or even a backwards glace, they ran on, leaving the fung to spit and sputter with pieces of trash hanging off his pretty, painted armor. In about three quarters of an hour they arrived at the staging point. A rather barren area where heavy ordinance had blown out what used to be a beautiful thriving city. The high graceful architecture was now no more than shattered rubble, the once grand permacrete avenues were now just massive burnt out craters filled with water and rotting bodies. The durasteel and permacrete wall rose above the devastation, casting it all in shadow. The walls were manned by one of the innumerable main army units and auto targeting turrets. The turrets would be shut off for the time being as the Ori'ramikade unit went over the wall. Two large trucks sat idling nearby with quartermasters standing watch. The 5th was already there, scattered and sitting at ease throughout the rubble. The Sol'vc slowed from the ground eating lope he had assumed after scaring the fungs and slowed to a walk as he approached the head quartermaster, his brown markings identified him as an Alor'ad. The Captain nodded to the Sol'vc and motioned for his men to unload the crates from the trucks. The did so with copious amounts of noise and conversation. Everyone of them went about their work with their buy'ce hanging from their belts and their rifles leaning against the trucks out of reach. "Disgraceful" He thought.

"Ruus'alors," Nunes radioed on the inter unit comms. "Gather and dispense the detonite". The four Ruus' came and picked up three ammo boxes apiece. Rosario and the command squad all moved in and grabbed a box as well. Rosario handed Nunes a box too. Each box held about 4.5 kilos of detonite. Enough to seriously damage one of the Republic war engines. Every warrior then picked up several thermal detonators, frag grenades and haywire grenades. The haywire grenades were useful for disabling turret sensors and were utterly silent with no flash. They omitted an EMP that disabled any electronics within 5 meters. Finally all the NCO's grabbed a couple proximity grenades so they could leave some nasty surprises behind. The quartermasters gathered up the remaining gear and loaded them onto the trucks. For all they could tell the Ori' just kept lounging and made no sounds. In reality Alor'uus Orono was briefing the entire unit over the inter-unit comm. Once each squad had been assigned a target and all questions had been answered each squad broke into individual briefings. If he cared to, Sol'vc could have listened in. However he trusted his men to do their jobs and left them to it. They were all battle hardened and they knew what needed to be done. If they had questions they would ask them.

The air grew still, a massive sandstorm brewed on the horizon, the skies darkened as the final sun set. Faintly over comm he heard the Army command give the order for the attack. Five miles away, proud Mandalorian warriors were going over the wall, to death and glory. The sounds of combat carried on the still air, the calm before the storm. Nunes watched as the massive wall of blowing sand flowed over the wall and consumed the landscape. "Perfect" he thought. Rosario tapped on his shoulder, and tapped his own helmet, it was time. The men rose like dead from the grave and moved to the wall like a river of death. Even though they were in friendly territory they were already moving from cover to cover. The men flowed over the wall, so close sometimes that they brushed against the men stationed on the wall, who jumped when the deathly silent Ori' slipped past. Nunes jumped over the final parapet and fell three meters, his armor cushioned his landing. The charred and denuded ground puffed up swirls of blackened sand as he sank half way up his shin guards into the ground. The rest of his men landed all around him like living comets of death. As soon as they hit, they cleared the area and moved into no man's land. It was four kloms to the enemy emplacements, and they were going to be there as quickly as possible. Their night vision kicked on, and the world was lit up in shades of green and black. To a trained warrior such as these, it was as easy as moving in the noonday suns. The warriors and their armor became black wraiths on the displays, they danced across the ground like the specters of death that they were. As they ran, making so little noise that the sounds of battle and roaring of the sand storm washed what little was left away, one could see the effects of three months of deadly battle. Bodies lay all about in various states of decomposition, the sand was slowly burying them beneath drifts. In other places bodies were exposed as the sand drifted off of them. Wrecked basilisks and dead dragons lay amongst the carnage, the very picture of death. Republic bodies carpeted the ground, at least five or six Republic troops lay on the ground for every Mandalorian corpse that could be seen.

Just shy of half a klom out the unit stopped. Using Y shaped contraptions with a stretchy length of rubber tied between the two uprights, much like children's slingshots only infinitely more powerful. Every other man pulled the pin and inserted a haywire grenade. As they were launched through the air towards the enemy battlements the spoon was released and the cylinders were armed. The enemy turrets tracked the motion but were unable to lock onto the small objects. They all landed on target and went off. Scrambling the circuits of the turrets and in effect shutting them down. In a rush the Ori' dashed forwards and launched grapples over the wall. Hoisting themselves up in the middle of the confusion was the easy part. Part way up the wall one smart, or very lucky Republic trooper looked out and saw the Mandalorians climbing up. As he turned to shout a warning, his head exploded into a pink mist and his plasteel helmet tumbled to the ground. The snipers were providing excellent covering fire from further out. Always the first in, the Sol'vc vaulted the ramparts, a surprised trooper looked up from the ruins of his friends corpse. Nunes simply kicked him in the face, his armor enhanced strength caved the soldiers head in and sent him sprawling back. Quickly the rest of the 5th slid over the ramparts and silently dealt with the limited defenders. The rest were on the way to reinforce their brethren further up the line. The Republic defenders were not sealed off from the sand storm and were wearing bulky goggles and face scarves to protect them from the swirling sand. Bare flesh would be slowly worn away like taking an abrasive pad to your skin and rubbing it vigorously back and forth. Once the main body of warriors were over the wall, they set about the task of destroying the turrets further and removing evidence of the haywire grenades. The imperials couldn't know about those, they were fairly rare and hard to produce. No sense in letting the Republic know about them.

Once the snipers caught up and the bodies of the dead were tossed over the wall, the troops moved out. They split off and each squad moved to their targets. Each of the command squad went with a different squad, Rosario with first, Mantisa with second, Nunes and Orono with third and Araluu with fourth. Each had an ammo or fuel dump to destroy, after planting charges, if they had time they were to proceed to secondary targets such as armories, vehicle hangers, barracks and even chow halls. Every trooper got rather disgruntled without proper food. The Mandalorians were used to just protein bars and water, so it didn't affect them quite as much. Nunes and the Ruus'alor of 3rd, one Akiva Dana, were to take out the largest and most heavily guarded dump, intel had placed it near the areas command bunker. If so, that meant there may be Jedi, and Nunes had a bone to pick with those damn witches. The men of the third slid through the darkened encampment like ghosts, every once in a while a soft "contact" would float over the comms, followed very shortly by "terminated". The knife work of the 5th was legendary. Stopping near a large bunker about fifty meters short of the target Nunes was surprised to find the huge Senior Tratur Breagg Truong attempting to hide his prodigious bulk behind the wall. The man was quite simply, huge. Standing over two meters in height and weighing an impressive 160 kilos of solid muscle, Breagg was simply the most massive Mandalorian the Nunes had ever met. The huge man was lugging about a repeating laser cannon, something that was normally mounted on warships or basilisk war droids. No other Mandalorian, would ever consider carrying one, let alone attempt to fire a repeating one with out at least a mount to rest on. Truong on the other hand, did it like a normal man would carry a rifle. It came in handy when the shit hit the fan, otherwise it was too loud and bright to be used for stealth. In his left hand Truong held the limp form of a Republic trooper who had decided to turn down the same alley that the huge man had decided to hide in. Truong's massive hand was wrapped around the trooper's obviously broken neck. The huge warrior seemed to have forgotten that he was holding a dead body in his hand and was instead staring at the door of the enemy's command bunker as though he could see through it and what was on the other side.

"Breagg." Nunes said over proximity comm, the huge man turned his head and looked at Nunes, a habit he couldn't break. One did not have to look at who you were speaking to over comm. "What do you see Breagg?"

"Nuthin Boss, seems a bit quiet though."

Nunes glanced around, it was a bit quiet, sometimes, despite his bulk, Breagg could be quite intuitive. "Ruus'alor, give me two on the dump." Immediately she called out over comm,

"Navaro, Eberle, go." the two troopers dashed across the open ground as quietly as possible and knee slid into cover near the entrance of the ammo dump. From where Nunes was one couldn't see into the dump nor could he see the two commandos. After a few tense seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity a call went up on the comm.

"Four hostiles, terminated, all clear" Eberle's robotic voice was hardly disguised by the comm. He had his voice box shot out a year ago during a boarding action on a Republic cruiser. The docs fixed him up with an artificial one, and he had picked up the call sign 'Droid' due to the way his voice sounded.

"3/1 move in, 3/2 maintain over-watch." Dana's voice said over comms, she was confident and got things done smartly and quickly. While her record was only six years, almost half of the other Ruus'alors she had proved herself multiple times. Nunes was glad he had promoted her when he did, his observations had proven right. One by one the members of 3rd squad 1st fire team slipped across the open ground and into the dark maw of the ammo dump. 3rd squad 2nd fire team immediately assumed over-watch positions and scanned the dark for approaching troops. When it was Cal's turn he darted across the open ground and slipped into the darkness. Around a corner, someone had thrown chem-lights on the ground and there were two Republic troopers dead at the table. Another was in his bunk against the wall, never to awaken. Following the rest of 3/1 deeper into the bunker he saw men busy at work rigging charges on smaller stockpiles. In the center of the main loading bay, a third body lay on the ground, his right arm and head lay severed some feet away. As Nunes walked in, Navaro was saying

"Bastard bit me, so I chopped him up good and proper." His left arm had a knife embedded in it and blood dripping down, his baskard was still held in his right hand. Sr Tratur Febri was looking at it, and finally grabbed the handle of the knife. Navaro hissed at the jostling of the weapon.

"On the count of three" He said to Navaro, "One...Two.." and yanked the blade out.

"Mandalore's sacred shit, I thought you said on three!" Navaro complained as Febri inspected the now cleared wound.

"Sorry," he said absently "I miss-counted" The rest of the team busied themselves with the charges, ignoring the complaining Navaro, it wasn't the first time. When he got hurt he tended to go berserk, hence the nickname 'Rage'. Afterwards he would complain up a storm about each little scratch, it was his way.

"Navaro."

"Yes, Ruus'?"

"Shut up."

"Aye Ruus'."

Navaro's complaining drifted off into grumbles and finally he shut up even as Febri closed the wound with cauterizing powder, and then used mesh tape to seal the hole in his body suit.

"There, good as new." Announced Febri as he closed up the med pack.

"Good, quit goofing off you two and get to work"

"Aye Ruus'!" they said in unison and headed off to plant their charges. As each trooper finished up, he gave the Ruus' a thumbs up and moved back towards the entrance. The massive siege shells carefully resting in racks all around the storage area were now wrapped in detonite and keyed to the Ruus's arm mounted data pad. Just as Nunes. Orono, and Dana exited the bay, a call went up on the comm.

"3/2 Contact" was sent by first one, then two then all of the men on over-watch.

"Sit-rep" Nunes called, with out missing a beat, Alor' Valentine radioed

"Troung, call it as you see it" the mark of a true veteran squad. Despite being in command the Alor who had a bad view of the situation was allowing a Sr Tratur to call the shots as he had the best view of the field.

"Unit strength, barracks, right. Squad from HQ building center, possible Alpha target." Alpha targets were anything from enemy HQ units, engines of war, or Jedi. His repeating laser cannon let out a burst of fire. "Alpha designation confirmed, frakken Jedi" At that time, Nunes emerged from the ammo dump entrance.

"3rd squad, weapons free." he announced as he saw the situation. The squad leapt to obey, assault rifles let out flashes of fire and the area was lit by crossing laser beams. "Concentrate on unit from barracks, Dana, with me." Nunes called as he pulled his Ripper from it's holster, and his sword from the sheath on his back. The Jedi's blue lightsaber lit up the clearing as he deflected the bolts directed at the squad from the HQ bunker. Some were thrown back at those who fired them, but between the cover and their armor, none of the Ori'ramikade were wounded. Nunes left arm fed a cable to his ripper and synced the sights with his left eye. Pressing the activation stud, his sword came to life,

"TO ME!" he roared through his external speakers at the Jedi. The force user saw him and turned from his charge at the massive Troung who was now decimating the unit trying to force their way across the open ground from the barracks. With out cover they were being cut down like wheat before the scythe. The Jedi raised his left hand and a blast of air hit Nunes, both Dana and Orono were knocked off their feet, but thanks to the internal gyro balancers in his armor and shear force of will, the Sol'vc stayed on his feet. The Jedi seemed momentarily taken aback that he hadn't knocked the Mandalorian over. That hesitation almost cost him as Nunes raised his left arm, locked on and fired the ripper. The solid slug, energy propelled round flashed towards the Jedi. With lightning reflexes he tried to block, but the solid slug had so much power it almost knocked the lightsaber from his hand. With a roar like a landslide Nunes charged the shocked Jedi. One of the Republic troopers stepped past the stunned Jedi and fired his blaster rifle on full auto at the charging Mandalorian. Though several of the shots hit, none of them were enough to stop the charging warrior whose armor was proof against even that many shots. The soldier paid for his bravery when another shot from the ripper pistol struck him full in the chest and broke him down to ash. The ripper pistol was in fact a heavily modified disruptor pistol and could disintegrate a full grown man with a kill shot. The soldier's helm and rifle dropped on top of his smoking boots as the charging Mandalorian swept past. The Jedi seemed to rally himself when he saw the man's painful death from a highly illegal and controversial weapon. Just as Nunes swung his vibro sword in a murderous arc, the Jedi, using his powers, yanked the pistol from the Sol'vc's grip and tossed it aside. Managing to block the sword at the last second, the Jedi was not too surprised to find that he couldn't just cut through it.

"Remember me, Jedi?" taunted Nunes as the rest of 3rd squad continued to decimate the reinforcements. Nunes had recognized the Jedi's face, though he was now more weather beaten and most certainly careworn.

"No," The Jedi said, "Should I?" they continued to block and strike, the two of them seemingly evenly matched. The Jedi continued to try and use the force to unbalance his opponent, however, hate, or the modifications made to his armor allowed the Mandalorian before him to remain upright. He saw an opening in the enemies defenses, a place where the infamous Beskar'gam didn't cover. He directed the flow of block and strike into another opening, and when he saw it he struck. The lightsaber should have cut the warrior's arm off at the elbow. However the lightsaber struck, and bounced off. The armored body suit was burned, but a bright metal shined through. Suddenly he felt an armored hand grab his arms which grasped the lightsaber. He was trapped and there was no where he could go.

"You should remember me, because last time we met, you cut off my arms." The Jedi's eyes widened as he recognized the kill markings on the warriors helm. It couldn't be, the man should have died from his wounds. Just as fear flooded into his mind he felt a massive pain. The Mandalorian had held him helpless, than removed both his arms with the vibro blade. Blood sprayed as the non energy weapon severed the flesh and bone of his body. It sprayed forth and coated the Mandalorian's armor with it's crimson color.

The man leaned forward, "Jedi, you were a worthy opponent, but know who has defeated you. I am Cal Nunes, Ruus'alor Sol'vc of the 5th Ori'ramikade. Mandalorian, and the man who has taken your life. Make peace with your gods, or whoever you pray to, your time has come to an end." With that Nunes swung the vibro blade and removed the Jedi's head from his shoulders in a spray of crimson. Reaching down, he pulled the still active lightsaber from the lifeless hands that held it. He pressed the stud and deactivated it, another trophy for his racks. He looked, found the ripper pistol and reconnected it to his left arm. The men of the 3rd had equated themselves well, after pinning the enemy in place, they had fallen upon them and cut them apart in hand to hand, as was right and proper. All of them had been blooded tonight.

Nunes looked at the HQ bunker and saw that the door was standing open. His blood was up, and the battle had only taken five minutes,

"Ruus' get me two and scout the bunker." The Ruus didn't even look up from where she was butchering the last two survivors with her vibro-blade.

"Kassal, Laval, Recon, HQ." she stated simply over the squad comm. The two troopers rose from where they had gone back on over-watch. "She had sent two from 3/2, truly a good Ruus'alor." He thought as they two slipped inside the building, cleared it, after a minute the call came.

"All clear."

"3/2 inside" Alor' Valentine said. The rest of 3/2 slipped inside and started setting up charges. Nunes followed along behind, he wanted to take a look at the HQ bunker. It would also give Orono a chance to poke about for intel. Something she did very well, and loved doing. She considered it a challenge to hack others encryption protocols. Once inside his visor auto shut off his night vision, it was lit bright enough that he didn't need it. Three soldiers lay on the floor their faces were gone, blown out by supremely accurate shots from assault rifles. The members of 3/2 were already almost done setting the charges and Orono was scooping up data pads and downloading critical intel from the computer banks around her.

"Time" He asked both to Alor' Valentine and Alor' Orono.

"Two ticks" Valentine answered.

"Five ticks" Orono answered.

"You have three and a half" Nunes said as he looked around, the Jedi's lightsaber slapping against his armored thigh hanging from it's lanyard. The place had a lived in look, personal effects and pictures of loved ones could be seen in the corners. This is why they would lose this war, too emotional.  
>"Ready" Orono and Valentine said like echos of one another as time expired. Nunes gave the hand signal to move out, and 32 exited the bunker. Valentine commed Dana,

"3/2's out" as the call came in, Dana moved 3/1 into the barracks. A quick firefight and multiple calls of "Clear" and they set about laying charges.

"All Squads sit-rep" Sol'vc Nunes radioed.

"1st squad, primary, two secondaries down, light resistance" Came the Ruus'alor Osto Roosh's reply.

"2nd squad, primary, all secondaries down, waiting at extraction." Was Ruus'alor Thosscon Mattac's satisfied report. After a lengthy pause Nunes tried fourth squad again.

"4th squad, sit-rep"

"4th squad, primary down, heavy resistance" the sounds of blaster fire could be heard. "Araluu's in it with two Alpha's. At least platoon strength, pinned by walker fire. Throw the damn thermal!" Came Ruus'alor Gorden Sode's reply followed by a large explosion. "We could use a hand or two, we are 70 percent combat effective."  
>"Affirmative, 3rd in route. ETA two ticks." Even as Nunes radioed it, 31 came out of the barracks checking their weapons and giving the thumbs up. "First, Second, secure extraction." He barked as he started running towards the last coordinates of 4th squad. Their affirmatives came over the comm and then he concentrated on running at full speed towards the combat.

A Mandalorian in powered armor at a full speed can move at speeds of almost 24 kloms an hour. It isn't quiet, but it is frightening, that much spiky metal coming at you at that speed will scare just about anything in the galaxy. Coming to a halt just short of the combat Nunes made the signal for an observer to go up high. Thalo Sivron, the squads sniper darted nimbly up the side of the building, as if he was running on flat ground. Seconds later he reported the situation. A call came across the comm, "Sivron, I taught you better, I can see you." Ulas Serasai the units top sniper and 4th's sniper said. The man had an almost supernatural talent for all things related to the long distance kill. He took an almost perverse pleasure in calling his shots, however the record counted for it's self, and he practically never missed. With his customized and over powered Sniper rifle he had blown lightsabers out of Jedi's hands, and picked pilots out of moving ships. The best option was for 3rd squad to hit the enemy from the flank and drive them into the fuel dump.

With all planning done in those few seconds, 3rd squad walked out from the dark alley into a full scale battlefield. A full platoon of Republic troops were dug in, facing 4th squad who were hunkered down behind what little cover they could find. Two shapes in Beskar'gam lay stretched out on the open ground, it was obvious at least one was dead. You needed your head to live after all, no matter how tough you were. Two walkers stomped around driving heavy fire into the 4th's lines and making it impossible to move. One lay on it's side, burning up and missing a leg, apparently the thermal detonator had done some good. The squads heavy repeater was unable to kill the other walkers, and just left fist sized dents and carbon scoring all over them. She was however aiming for the vision ports, making it hard for the walkers to effectively see. In the middle of it all, Araluu danced the forms with two Jedi. His Baskads flashing as he spun and ducked their blows. Both the Jedi bled from multiple cuts, but the Alor' wasn't unscathed, he favored his right leg as a smoking wound betrayed where one lightsaber had found it's way past his armor. No one on either side fired into the swift moving combat, almost too quick to see.

Without needing to be told, Truong hefted his custom laser cannon to his side and braced his legs in a wide stance. When he opened fire on the nearest walker he completely obliterated the crew box, leaving a pair of smoking legs standing with slag running down it's side. The enemy seemed to falter at such a massive display of power, which was the signal for the 3rd to charge. The Republic troops almost forgot to fire as eight blood stained warriors came streaming out of the dark, no sound issuing from those charging straight at them. First one, then another, and another soldier rose from his position and started to run. Their sergeants yelled at them to stand firm, but between the accurate sniper fire now coming from two positions and eleven pissed off Mandalorians charging them as 4th squad joined in the attack, more soldiers started to run. The last walker was sheared off at the knee and toppled over before being lit up by 4th's heavy repeater and 3rd's laser cannon. It exploded in a miniature mushroom cloud as it's generator went up. A few of the soldiers tried to stand their ground and fired at the rushing warriors, but between their inertia and their superior armor not a single Mandalorian fell, they shrugged off shots that would have dropped any one of the soldiers firing them. The Jedi couldn't help, Araluu was too much of a threat, and if either one of them left to help the soldiers, they knew he would kill them both. The members of the 5th Ori'ramikade, knew better than to interfere. One did not help another Mandalorian with a kill unless asked, that was a huge insult. Instead they just flowed around the combat like water around a rock. The men and women of 3rd and 4th squad reaped a tally of death.

Nunes shot three with his pistol then decapitated a Sgt who attempted to butt stroke him with his blaster rifle. An officer yelled out a challenge towards the bloody figure of Ruus'alor Sol'vc, waving his sword, it was obvious what the officer wanted. Nunes holstered his pistol and stalked towards the man. He had guts, it was obvious he was afraid of the bloody figure walking towards him, the significance of the lightsaber hanging from the warriors belt was not lost on him, but he still stood his ground.

"I am Lord Voren Emala, Captain of the 244th Republic guard and I demand you fight me fairly." He cried out as the Sol'vc neared him. Nunes gave the officer a short bow, keeping his eyes on him and waited for the officer to respond in kind. The rest of 3rd and 4th executed the plan perfectly, forcing the survivors to run for cover into the fuel dump. They then ringed the exit to the dump and shot anyone attempting to flee from where they were now cornered. Nunes waited for the officer to attack, the officer was wielding a highly ornamental vibro sword. But it was a weapon just the same, and one should never underestimate an opponent. The officer sprung forwards with a perfect fencing lunge, but this was no fencing lane, and the Sol'vc wasn't interested in fencing. Instead he swatted the officer's sword away with his own and cut the high peaked cap from the officer's head just to show he was serious.

"Well I'll be..." the Captain said rubbing his now bare head. Then he lunged into a series of strikes that would, and had probably overwhelmed others, however Nunes had fought with Josh Araluu too many times for this man to surprise him with cheap tricks. The two dueled back and forth, the man was good, but over weight and was tiring quickly. Lord Voren tried one more lunge, but Nunes was ready for it and turned his body so the point skimmed off his armor and forced Emala to over balance himself. Trapping the man's arm between himself, and his arm, Nunes punched Emala in the face, breaking the officer's jaw in a spray of blood and teeth. The Lord Voren dropped his sword and held both hands to his now ruined face, the blood dripped down his hands and welled up between his fingers. With a short bow, Nunes acknowledged the man's skill, then ran his sword through the plasteel breastplate right where wind met water. The officer dropped like a puppet with his strings cut, and slid off the vibro sword as the life fled from his body. Nunes reached down and ripped the rank off of the man's collar, another trophy. Turning he realized the field was quiet, with the exception of the three fighting in the middle. 3rd and 4th squad had the Republic soldiers trapped in the fuel dump and only an occasional shot would ring out.

Watching the combat, it was obvious that the two Jedi were getting the better of the Alor'uus. He had two more smoking wounds, and his movements betrayed his pain.

"Alor'" Nunes said, opening a private channel to him. "You will not be dishonored if you accept my help. You have but to ask." It was obvious that Araluu was fading fast. "You are not destined to die here, you still owe me your oath, and I forbid you to die here."

After a moments hesitation, "Sol'vc" was his pained reply, his voice betraying his pain, and desperation. He knew he couldn't win, but pride wouldn't allow for him to ask for help. Pointing his vibro blade at the elder of the two, Nunes advanced on her. As she responded to this new threat, Josh dropped his left hand blade, his arm still smoking from an earlier wound. The younger of the two saw this and tried to overwhelm him but Josh wasn't that far gone. The alien female Jedi looked at Cal and spoke in another language, not understanding, and not caring Nunes advanced on her. Using her witchery she picked up and threw a soldiers dead body at him, so he cut it in half, the entrails poured out and snagged on the spikes on his armor, hanging off of him giving him an even more barbaric look. She tried again this time in common

"You do not know who you mess with Mandalorian. I have killed many of your kind before, you are not the first, and you will not be the last." If she expected that to shock him she had another thing coming. Her eyes traveled down his battered, bloodied armor, and came to rest on the lightsaber dangling from his belt.

"That's..." she exclaimed her alien eyes widening.

"I am Jedi Knight Asha Takan and you will pay for killing Master Fyr." She leapt towards him in a powerful bound, her lightsaber held high. Obviously intending to kill him in one strike. So he did something she wouldn't expect, sending extra power to his leg servos, he launched himself towards her. His shoulder and head spikes foremost, it worked because instead of her trying to take his head off she used one of her powers to reverse her flight and back flip away from him. Though it didn't stop her, she was obviously furious at the fact that he had killed this Master Fyr. He stopped and presented himself towards her, blade first. She came back at him, her blows fast and furious. If it weren't for his constant training, lightsaber resistant weapon and armor, he would have been dead a dozen times over. Luckily she seemed so consumed by her need to kill him that her strikes were half wild and had too much force behind them. Her long, pure white hair streamed out behind her and she slashed madly at him as he dodged or blocked her strikes. She lunged and again he moved his body to the side, her lightsaber scoring a path across the right side of his armor. He grabbed her streaming hair with his left hand and yanked, her head was jerked back even as her body continued forwards. He brought his right elbow down and right knee up, the spikes on both pierced her chest and back and caused her to scream in pain. She swung her lightsaber and left a score mark across his helmet and visor. The blow made him let go however and the two combatants faced off, she was bleeding from a dozen small wounds. The two larger ones were quickly causing her to bleed out, and she was breathing heavily, but force of will kept her standing. The lightsaber had marred the right side of his helmet and melted the transparisteel visor over his right eye. In effect she had partially blinded him, and even inside his climate controlled suit he was sweating. She was good, but he knew it was time to end it, the look in her eyes mimicked his thoughts. They charged at one another, determined to end it, She struck high and he ducked, her lightsaber deflected off of the spikes on one shoulder. He spun pivoting on his back heel and walked away, she held her outstreached pose for the longest minute, her body refusing to move. Then she saw what he was holding in his left hand, Master Fyr's lightsaber was active, the Mandalorian had used it to cut her in half. She tried to scream, but no sound came out, her lightsaber slipped from nerveless fingers, and the world went fuzzy. She heard her padawan cry out

"Master Takan!" though she tried, she couldn't respond and the world fell into darkness. Extinguishing the lightsaber, Nunes picked up the dead female's lightsaber. Another trophy, two Jedi, this was a good battle. Nunes watched the battle between the younger Jedi, and Araluu, the young one was letting his anger get the better of him, and he slashed and struck with wild blows.

"Quit playing around and put that one out of it's misery Alor'."

"Sol'vc" was the reply. Suddenly ducking inside the Jedi's reach, Araluu slammed his spiked shoulder into the Jedi's robed chest. Blood sprayed as he ripped back, the Jedi, momentarily stunned by the pain, never saw the stroke that separated his head from his shoulders. Josh grabbed the lightsaber and strapped it to his belt. He picked up his other sword and almost tenderly cleaned them both on the dead Jedi's robes.

Checking his chrono Nunes realized that is was past time to be gone. The men of 3rd and 4th squads had now rolled a cargo transport in front of the fuel dump and set it on fire. The men inside the dump were trapped, little did they know, the fuel dump had already been seeded with detonite and would be going up soon. The NCO's left a few small proximity grenades near the burning transport just in case, then got the squads to pick up their dead and wounded. Of the three casualties, one was dead, one was dying, and the other was just missing his arm and had passed out. Josh hobbled over as Cal leaned over the man who was dying, his belly had been shot out by the high power laser cannons of the walkers, even his armor wasn't proof against them. What wasn't burned was trying to fall out, and the ground was soaked with his lifeblood.

"Tratur," The man groaned, "Veila, can you hear me?"

"Sol'vc?"

"Yes"

"Sol'vc, I know.." he broke off into a coughing fit, "Sol'vc I know I will slow everyone down. Please make sure I leave nothing for the Republics." Nunes nodded and then did something rare for Mandalorians, he saluted the dying man. He watched as Tratur Wedge Veila pulled out his heavy blaster pistol and placed the barrel under his chin. "For Mandalore." As the smoke rose from the corpse, the Ruus'alors of both 3rd and 4th dragged the two dead Mandalorians together. Then they removed the helmets and weapons of both dead warriors, the bodies were rigged with thermal detonators on a timer. The high energy blasts and heat so close and in such high concentration would disintegrate the bodies and melt the armor making it useless. After dealing with the dead, both squads formed up, Tratur Pesqui who was now short an arm was awakened by stimulants injected into his remaining arm.

"We aren't going to carry your lazy ass, so get moving." Stated Alor'uus Xemo slapping the downed Ori' on his buy'ce. The warrior shook his head a few times, then staggered to his feet with the aid of his squad mates. Hefting his assault rifle in his right arm, he nodded when asked if he was able to continue. The two squads set off at a lope, working together to cover all the angles of attack and still move at speed. Within ten minutes they arrived at the extraction point. Both 1st and 2nd squads rose from concealment and started to climb back over the wall, they had already seeded the area with proximity grenades that they would arm as soon as they were over. 3rd and 4th squads added their grenades to the mix, once done they too went over the wall, Nunes took one last look around. With his command squad already heading over the wall he armed the detonite with his wrist mounted data pad, the key to detonate the charges flashed. He panned his view from left to right, able to see quite a large area from his viewpoint on the wall and with the aid of his artificial eye. Off in the distance he could see troop transports hurrying to the sector the 5th had just hit.

"Too late" he said, then pressed the button. He watched as the conflagration consumed the buildings and dumps that had been mined. The shells, ammo, weapon and fuel dumps went up in massive mushroom clouds of flame, smoke and light. The men trapped inside were vaporized, the barracks, chow halls, vehicle bays and HQ bunker went up with smaller clouds of smoke and flame, the blasts muted by the thick permacrete and durasteel walls. Pleased with his units success, he vaulted the parapet and fell over the other side. His men were waiting for him, with a nod and the hand signal "move" they all started off at a run, moving back through dead man's land. As they reached their own lines the sand storm started to lift, almost like it had been waiting for them to make it safe back to their own side. From behind them they could hear an alarm siren, the sounds of hover craft. Stopping just below the wall on their side, Nunes turned and looked back the way they had come, indistinct shapes in the rapidly clearing dust resolved to clear hard shapes illuminated in bright green when he used his helmets built in monocular. Running swiftly after the retreating commando unit were three troop carriers and two heavy weapons platforms. If the auto turrets had been activated they would have been able to destroy all of them before they made contact. As it was, Nunes wasn't sure he would be able to make it to the top of the ladder before the platforms were in range, he decided he would have to risk it.

"5th, contact rear, two Alphas, three Charlies. Double Quick, suppressive fire" In one short sentence he had informed his unit about the approaching troops and heavy weapons. His men were ordered to go faster up the ladders, and then support the regular troops stationed on the wall. The men knew what to do and swarmed up the ladders like they were born in a jungle. The fire from above multiplied with each man that made it up. Cal almost made it up as last man, before the first platform was in range, luckily the gunner was so intent on making the kill that he didn't wait for the driver to stop. The heavy laser cannon burned a massive hole in the wall ten centimeters from the position where he hung precariously on the ladder and damn near blinded him with the night vision setting active on his display. He didn't intend to give them another chance and sprang the last meter over the wall in record time. He barely made it as the gunner fired again and burned the ladder he had been climbing on from the wall just as he unceremoniously fell in a heap on the other side. Who ever the Alor'ad in the section was, he timed the activation of the turrets just right, for as the Sol'vc was getting back to his feet, they finished their activation cycles and started spiting out scarlet and cyan death on the Republic troops who had just dismounted from their craft. It proved to be the end for almost one hundred and fifty of the Republics troops. Not counting the drivers and crew of four of the skimmers. One of the heavy weapons skimmers managed to turn around and limp back towards the Republic lines, listing to port and smoking badly, it's gunner was slumped over his heavy laser cannon, a hole the size of a fist blown through his torso. The 5th did a quick head check, Pesqui had passed out again from his wound, two of his squad mates picked him up in a buddy carry and got him down the stairs from the wall. The 5th moved out without another sound as the army grunts shouted, hurled insults, and congratulated themselves on their kills.

The trip back took quite awhile longer than their initial trip to the departure zone, not that the wounded warrior slowed them down, but because none of them were in any hurry to get back. The military had changed in the past few years. The Manda'lor was a proud warrior, but his advisers were changing the way the wars were fought. They had deserted the code, they wore armor all made in the same style, their ranks were defined by the color of your armor, blue, red and gold. No longer were kill markings placed on the warrior. Things had changed too much too fast, and while the record of conquest was astounding, it wouldn't be long until the rapid advance of the Mandalorian's would be stopped by someone. With the Jedi entering the war, the pace had slowed to a crawl, those damn witches were often as good as a whole unit of regular warriors. While the members of the Ori'ramikade almost all exclusively wore the ancient style of armor made famous by their ancestors the new army were titled Neo-Crusaders and wore armor that was heavier and more powerful, but had all smooth lines, none of the customization that each warrior preferred and weren't made of beskar'gam. The spikes that were part of the pride of a true warrior of Mandalore were gone, sleek armor that was all uniform had taken over. The Army and Navy commanders had put pressure on the Al'verde Ori'ramikade to have all his troops replace their armor with the new style, so far he had managed to convince the Manda'lor to allow the veterans to keep their armor.

As they walked back through the encampment, the signs of the recent battle were everywhere, units of army troops lay every which way in the streets, their armor showing new scratches and damage celebrating another battle. They were almost all drunk on Black Ale, or Tihaar, they only got out of the way as the Ori' stepped on them, kicked them, or shoved them aside. A few turned around after being pushed to retaliate, but the grim visage of the veterans, or a quick punch to their drunken un armored faces left them reeling away from the platoon as it loosely marched along. In front of Ori' HQ Nunes dismissed the platoon with a hand gesture "Rearm and reequip." Then ducked inside, Tratur Ruus'alor Rosario followed him inside, the others went to deal with the rest of the unit. He took Cal's buy'ce and held it under his left arm. When making a report, it was courteous to remove your helmet so others could read your face. Both the Al'verde and the Ver'alor Al'verde were there and looked up from the map table as he came in. He gave his report quickly and concisely, when he got to the part about the Jedi, the Al'verde simply grunted, and Aria crinkled her nose at him but her eyes sparkled. When he was done with his report the Al'verde said,

"Well done Ruus'alor Sol'vc. My compliments to your men. Dismissed." and returned to his perusal of the map. Aria came to his side while saying to no one in particular, "I will see them out." Rosario handed him his buy'ce then left to exit the bunker, part way down the stairs where no one could see them, Aria stopped him leaned in close, her armor covered hand running across the cut in his armor where his metal arm showed through.

"It was a close fight wasn't it?" When he didn't answer she continued, "I hope to see you later in my quarters, I have a solo mission for you. About 2330." He nodded as she ran her other hand along the new scar on his breastplate. "Till later then." she said, reaching up and running her fingers along his stubbly chin, the blood and dust that she had picked up from his armor she now transferred to it, neither of them seemed to notice as he leaned down towards her. She leaned her head back, her lips parting and eyes closing.

"Ver'alor Al'verde, where did you put that data pad?" Asked the Al'verde from the map room. She chuckled and spun away from Cal, heading back to work, he watched her swaying hips as she climbed the stairs back to the command room her distinctly female smell tickling his nose. He shook his head ruefully and then placed his buy'ce back on his head as he stepped out the reinforced durasteel blast door. Outside Rosario simply stood waiting, no questions, they turned and started walking back to the tent.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Nunes and Rosario arrived at the tent, they both set about repairing armor and re-equipping for the next mission. The tent was busy with men bustling back and forth, most armor didn't need to be repaired, that which did was either taken care of by the men themselves, or if it proved to be more damaged then they would go to the forge where the blacksmiths would fix it. Pausing long enough to grab more ammo for his ripper, and a new power cell for his vibro sword, Nunes turned and walked back out of the tent. He knew that his buy'ce was something he couldn't fix by himself. The intricate electrical systems in the helmet would be too much for him. Besides, it had been a while since he had visited his old friend Traest Cadav.

Traest was a taung, one of the few left of a rapidly declining race, their propensity for war had nearly driven them to extinction. However they were the original Mandalorians, originally from Coruscant they were forced from the planet and became wanderers until they found a new planet and renamed it Mandalore. They killed off all of the massive mythosaurs driving them extinct, then they settled on the planet and for generations had fought amongst one another in clans. However they all shared one thing in common, an intense hatred for anyone from Coruscant, and the Republic which had established the planet as their center of power. The constant infighting had made the warriors that survived incredibly powerful, however it also started to kill off the taung species as a whole. Warriors who flew throughout the galaxy started to adopt orphans or other powerful warriors from other cultures in to their clans. By and far mostly humans had been recruited, and the meaning of Mandalorian had changed. No longer was it the name of a race, but was now the definition of fearless, uncompromising, deadly warriors.

Walking into the darkened forge, the technical equipment needed to manufacture or repair armor, working over time. The Sol'yc waved a servant over,

"Tell the Forgemaster I would be honored if he could spare me a moment." The servant bowed and scurried away, the smell of hot metal, and acrid smell of electricity made it past the filters built into his helmet and stung the nostrils. Everywhere menials ran back and forth, servicing the machines need to make new armor. Elsewhere in the forge, some machines built the replacement parts for the basilisk war droids.

"The Forgemaster will see you now Ruus'alor Sol'yc" said the servant at his elbow. Nunes almost jumped, between the noise and all the activity he hadn't even noticed the servant approach him. With a wave indicating that the servant should lead on, he followed him into the depths of the forge. Down a long spiral ramp and into the bowels of the forge. A huge durasteel blast door guarded by a pair of combat droids opened at their approach. This portion of the forge was the Forgemaster's inner sanctum and one did not just casually wander in here. The massive taung was bent over a work bench as craftsmen worked at anvils or other pieces of machinery.

"How does it go Cal?" the deep rumbling of the old taung seemed to come from the walls, the very air itself. With a respectful bow Nunes replied, "Well Master, I have come to ask you to work your magic on my armor." The taung turned, to say he was huge was an understatement. The race of taung were normally from about 6'8" to 7'10". Cadav had been well over 7'8" until old age started to bend his back. He was still tall, taller than Cal by a long shot. Cadav no longer wore armor, just an armored body suit that didn't catch on things in the forge. His dark green skin was almost like extra thick leather, all taung had a cranial structure that looked like the helmets that all Mandalorians wore now. His long dextrous fingers had claws on the end. His yellowed eyes had a way of almost piercing ones soul and measuring you as a warrior at a glance.

"Hmmm, young one, you seem to have gotten yourself in another fight. Give it here." Cadav chuckled as he beckoned with one long finger. He may look frail, but make no mistake he was a master of Teräs Käsi the unarmed martial art of the ancient Mandalorians. Respectfully handing over his helmet Cal was amazed as always how small it looked in the taungs hands. "Melted transparisteel, a little bit of a burn to the crest and cheek. That is superficial, hmm. Yes I will need to replace this visor." Cadav muttered to himself as he expertly took the face plate off the helmet and started to take it apart.

"A burn like this can only come from a lightsaber, You fought Jedi again didn't you?"

"Yes, Master" it was the only reply expected from him.

"You killed two of them I gather," one of his fingers flicked towards the lightsabers on Cal's belt.

"Good, that's two less." He paused for a moment, "Was one of them 'The' Jedi?" he asked his head tilted in a questioning manner.

"Yes, Master" the same Jedi that had cut his arms off, had also severely injured Cadav and forced him to retire to being the Forgemaster. Taung couldn't smile, their faces didn't have the muscle for it, instead he bobbed his head up and down quickly. "You and yours are always welcome into my sanctum young one" The inner sanctum was where crusader style armor was still produced, it was done as it always had been, by hand. Each piece carefully forged from raw Mandalorian Iron, then fitted and shaped to the individual warrior. Other items of war were made here as well, Beskads the short slashing blade, as well as vibro swords for officers. Ripper pistols and customized weaponry were also made here, as each item had to be hand crafted and altered.

"Use my quarters to clean your equipment and yourself. Rest, eat and meditate. I will be done shortly." He said motioning to his rooms. Cal bowed in respect and headed for the taung's quarters. Closing the durasteel door the sounds of the forge were muted, all along the walls were mementos of the taung's past life. Trophies from challenging kills, mementos of hard fought campaigns. Sitting in a corner was the battle plate of Cadav, behind it was his personal weapons, all clean and ready for use. Walking into the arming chamber he slowly removed the leads from his armor, it weighed him down as he de-powered it and removed the upper portion of his armor. Laying it on the thick micro-fiber cloth he started to remove his combat belt. He laid his sword and pistol on the cloth alongside his armor and rifle. Removing the leg armor he reflected on every scratch, dent and scar on the armor, remembering every time his war suit saved him. Finally he stripped off the rubberized, vacuum sealed armored combat suit. "It's time for a new one" he thought, the smell of stale sweat and aggression stinging his nose. The under suit had been patched so many times it was more patches then original suit. Laying it in the corner he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax, something he would never do anywhere else in the camp.

With a deep breath he allowed his consciousness to soar, standing naked in the arming circle he started to slowly move through the ritual Teräs Käsi forms. When one came down from a combat high, it was better to let it out through meditation, letting your muscles stretch and your endorphins to return to normal levels. Once completed a new layer of sweat on his lean, scarred body he turned to his equipment. Kneeling he took a cloth and cleaned the suit of blood and dirt. Carefully he took a scoring pad and scrubbed the suit clean of carbon burns and marks. The damage would remain, a testament to his battles, the suit was thick and the damage didn't weaken it's integrity. Taking the colored pigment pots, he bowed to his suit and selected his colors. Green for Duty, something he took very seriously, Blue for reliability the Ori'ramikade were the most reliable, they would succeed in the mission or die trying. Finally he pulled a new pigment out. Red, the current meaning was to signify officers, in the old way it was to honor a father.

Thinking of Cadav he carefully painted both arms blood red, a new color on his plate. Finally done with the armor and allowing the paint to dry he turned to his weapons. Carefully disassembling his rifle he cleaned all the parts with oil, and shined the reflective lenses with a special compound. Reassembling the rifle he turned to the pistol and repeated the procedure. He picked up his sword and reflecting on the new kills it had blessed him with he cleaned and sharpened it, as he then did with the dozen knives that were normally strapped to him. Finally done, he rose and turned to the pool in the center of the room. The almost scalding hot water burned its way up his legs and torso, he didn't enter the center of the pool, it was built to Cadav's scale and Cal would have drowned. As it was the pain of the scalding water drove all other thoughts from his mind and made him take deep breaths. The cleaning micro-droids in the pool removed the blood, dirt and sweat from his skin. Taking a deep breath he submerged his head into the scalding water. Allowing the micro-droids to clean the rest of him, he forced himself to stay under for one full minute. When his lungs felt near to bursting he slowly raised his head from the pool, an act of control. Ritual pools in places like this actually had micro-droids in the water that were programmed to clean. He ran a hand through his short hair then slowly rose from the pool. His skin was bright red, the cool air feeling like the glacial snows in the high mountains where he had been trained.

Taking a towel from the rack he dried off, walking back into the main quarters he tossed the towel into a bin for such a purpose. Mandalorians had no concept of modesty, the body was a body, no one cared. Tossing a sheet over the entirely too big cot in the corner he lay down on his back, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. For once, he could drift off to sleep without being woken up before he was fully rested. While he slept the forge was busy making new arms and armor, the Forgemaster walked into the room to inform Cal that the repairs were done, seeing him asleep he instead hobbled into the arming chamber. Noticing the oft patched armored suit folded in a corner, and the new paint scheme of the armor he nodded his head. He knew the reason, placing the repaired helmet in it's place next to the armor he turned to leave. What felt like eons ago he would have chastised his pupil for sleeping so soundly, those who slept like the dead, became the dead. Instead he gave Cal a short bow, the honor was his, and left closing the door softly so as not to wake his greatest pupil, and friend. The man may be human, but he would have made an excellent taung.

Cal woke after what seemed to be an eternity of sleep, he hadn't slept this long, or so soundly for years. He rose from the bed and went into the arming chamber. Seeing the helmet completed he smiled, Cadav always was good at being stealthy. He turned and grabbed the armored under-suit and stopped, it was brand new, the faint smell of rubber still clung to it, and it was one contiguous whole instead of a mass of patches, Cadav was very observant. A rare smile crossed his face as he stepped into the leggings of the under-suit and pulled it up over his hips and up to his shoulders. He pulled the hood over his head and stretched, the suit being new was tight, and had yet to shape to the contours of his body. He then armored himself, placing the leg and foot guards on, strapping his breastplate a arm armor on.

He finally picked up his helmet, Cadav had painted two new Jedi lightsaber markings on the helm, again Cal smiled as he placed it on his head and the start-up sequence initiated. Strapping on his weapons he turned and left the arming chamber. Opening the durasteel door into the inner sanctum he was amazed already how much faster his armor was responding already. The rubberized under-suit wasn't just a vacuum seal from hostile environments, it also picked up the electromagnetic impulses of his body and translated them into real movement of the suit it's self. A new under-suit made the translations faster and smoother, meaning quicker reactions for him. Seeing Cadav, with his back to the room he had just left, Cal took slow steady steps, hiding them within the rhythmic beat of the hammers and snuck up behind Cadav. Just as he got in arm range the taung stopped him by placing a blade to Cal's throat.

"Still too noisy young one." The old taung said as he removed the blade.

"That's why you are the master and I, still the student." Said Cal as he surreptitiously rubbed his neck.

"I came to thank you for everything that you have done for me."

"Think nothing of it, you are the best of my students. Death and Honor."

"Death and Honor master." He bowed and left the inner sanctum. His master had already turned back to his work. Exiting the Forge he looked around. It was still dark, his chrono beeped and he realized it was time for his next mission.

"Rosario or Orono, come in." He commed.

"Orono here" came the reply.

"Get me Rosario"

"Sol'yc" Orono answered. After a moment the voice of Rosario came over the comm.

"Sol'yc?"

"I am off to attend a meeting, hows the 5th?"

"All fixed up and bedded down. Standard operating procedures are being followed."

"Good, I will let you know if you are needed"

"Roger, Out."

Having confirmed that the 5th was in capable hands, Nunes turned and headed for the command bunker. Once he got nearer to the bunker he was heading for, he ghosted into the shadows. Looking around he made sure no one was looking, and he wasn't being followed. Passing three bunkers, he arrived at his destination. At the door he entered the specific security code he needed and the thick durasteel door unlocked. With practiced speed he slipped inside and secured the door, the hall was lit with a darkened green light his night vision wouldn't be overloaded. He stalked down the hall way, careful to stay in the shadows. It was deathly quiet and any wrong step or scrape of metal on stone would echo. Arriving at the third door down he inserted a knife into the door jamb and carefully popped the door open. Once he ghosted inside he closed the sound proof door behind him. A single candle burned in the center of the sparsely furnished room, as he stepped towards it, a voice floated out of the darkness from behind him.

"You're late" he spun as a figure launched itself at him and struck at his head with an armored fist. Continuing his spin he grabbed the arm and threw his attacker across the room into the table that held the candle. The light went out and the sound of cracking plasteel could be heard. His night vision kicked and the room was lit in dark shades of green. His attacker came at him again, they traded kicks and punches, one of the fists got through and connected with his chin, stars shot through his vision. He grunted then tackled the figure, they rolled around on the ground in the wreckage of the table. He grappled the form, using his body weight on top of his attacker he pinned their body to the floor. He pinned their arms above their head and held them there.

"Viscous as always Sol'yc" Aria said from beneath him. Still using one hand to pin both her arms he reached up and removed his helmet. The world blinked out, it was pitch black, he reached down and undid her helmet as well. He leaned in and their lips met in a blaze of lust. Stars exploded in his eyes as she brought her freed elbow down onto the top of his head.

"Lights" she commanded and the computer turned her lights on. He reeled back rubbing his head, Aria kicked him in the chest and knocked him off of her. She launched herself at him punching at his head, he swayed aside knocking her arm off course and drove his shin into her thigh as she attempted to knee him in the groin. Wrapping his arm around hers he spun and slammed her into the wall. She grabbed his gorget with her free hand and pulled him into another soul burning kiss. Then pushed him off and punched him full in the face, even as his head snapped around he slapped her with his open hand the force of it throwing her off her feet. From the ground she tripped him and he slammed down next to her.

The two traded punches, kicks, and kisses as they stripped the armor off of each other, the passion raged in the room as the two trained killers, combat hardened and incredibly ruthless warriors made their love known to each other through their strength. His hard, scarred body against her scarred smooth skin, the fire of both souls merging as they fought out their love. Blood mixed with sweat, the pain and the pleasure merged into a raging inferno, the whole room was their arena. Cal picked her up and slammed her body against the wall, her legs wrapped about his waist as he pinned her hands against the wall, their naked bodies moving against one another. Aria moved her muscular legs down the back of his scarred muscular ones. She pulled against the back of his knees and slammed him down onto the floor, her body on top of his. She pushed his arms above his head and leaned in, her body still moving in time with his.

After a time, they lay together on the floor, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. Cal leaned up on an elbow next to her, "Well, that was fun." His breath still coming in gasps. Aria turned her head and looked at him, her fist flew up and smashed him in the cheek causing him to fall onto his back. She let out an uncontrollable giggle and then rolled on top of him. Resting her body on top of his she laid her head on his chest that still rose and fell with his breath. She ran her fingers across the scars on his chest as he lay beneath her. His hands stroked her slim back and ran his fingers through her short red hair.

"When this campaign is over, will you have my child?" He asked. She sighed,

"Cal, I will give you as many children as you would like to have from me." She felt him relax more under her,

"I would like to have some children. Teach them what I know, let them grow." he was interrupted by the beeping of a comm-link. Both of them dove around the room looking for their buy'ce.

"Mine" she said before putting the helmet on. She looked very interesting sitting there completely naked with only her buy'ce on her head. Aria removed her helmet, the look on her face all business again.

"Al'verde is calling for me in the command center, I have thirty minutes. Cal nodded and immediately set to helping her find the pieces of her armor that were scattered all over the room. Helping her into her body-suit, he ran his hands up her thighs, over her hips, then held the arms for her. He ran his hands up her body as he strapped it closed. The act of putting on armor was not normally intimate for most cultures, between two dedicated warriors it was almost as arousing as the act of removing it. When she was fully armored, he still stood before her naked.

"You know, if you ever gave up the armor and the sword, I would take you as my personal servant in a heart beat" She almost purred as she placed an armored hand against the hard, marked chest of the large man in front of her. "But you would never be a servant." she stood on her toes and kissed him. His strong arms squeezing her even through her armor. They stepped apart and she donned her buy'ce, turning she left with a hurry in her step. Cal looked around the room and started trying to find the pieces of his armor, one boot was even under her cot. A gauntlet had ended up hanging from a peg on the other side of the room. Another rare smile crossed his face as he started to suit up. By the time he had completed getting armored, his comm-link was beeping. It was a general communique,

"All units are to stand to and prepare for imminent combat" Switching to a different channel

"Orono, did you catch that?"

"Aye Sol'yc"

"Wake the command I will be there in ten"

"Aye Sol'yc" and the link went silent as Orono went to wake the command squad. Cal exited the Ori'ramikade command quarters and started running towards the 5th's tent. Everywhere there was a flurry of activity as warriors, servants and commanders ran about getting where they were supposed to be. Nine minutes and fifty ticks later Nunes made it to the tent, the two on duty stood and nodded in respect as he brushed past. Inside the tent was as dark as the outside, it still being very early morning, neither of the suns had risen yet. Inside it was quiet as a tomb warriors who snored or slept loudly were normally the first to go. The command squad was ready and waiting,

"Sol'yc" said Rosario with a nod,

"Make sure everyone is ready to fight," Looking at the sleeping platoon. "Only wake them if they are not already in their armor." everyone in the 5th slept in their armor, and had their weapons and buy'ce close at hand. The Tratur Ruus' nodded again and he and the others turned to check on the sleeping warriors.

"All Ori'ramikade commanders are to attend to command bunker immediately." Came the call over the comm. Nunes turned on his heel and hurriedly exited the tent, he took off at a run towards the command bunker. On his way he noticed the commanders of the other four Ori' units running towards the bunker on the double. Ever the competitors the four Ver'alor were racing one another, it didn't matter, the Sol'yc was still faster and beat them to the bunker. He nodded as each one caught up, they all responded in kind. There was mutual respect between all veterans regardless of rank, as they entered another warrior came racing around the corner. His neo-crusader armor was colored blue and he was dashing towards the command bunker. Closing the door behind him, the Sol'yc and four Ver'alor headed up the stairs to the map room. The door opened behind them and the other warrior entered, he followed the five up the stairs and stood at the back, he hadn't removed his buy'ce as indeed none of the others had either. The Al'verde and the Ver'alor Al'verde were busy and the map table and nodded as each person came in, with the exception of the last person. The Al'verde looked at Aria, she removed her helmet,

"This meeting is for the command members of the Ori'ramikade only, who are you?" The warrior removed his helmet, instantly Nunes knew who it was.

"By order of the Al'verde of the Army and Field Marshal Jorg Lassic I am an Ori'ramikade commander. If any one shouldn't be here it is Ruus'alor Sol'yc Cal Nunes. After all I am in command of the 5th." Ver'alor Kwyntehst Quamar said with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Over my dead body" Nunes growled.

"I figured as much Ruus'alor Sol'yc. Therefore in front of these witnesses I challenge you to a honor duel for the right to command the 5th."

"Are you insane? We are in the middle of an alert."

The deep voice of the Al'verde intruded on the argument. "It was just a drill, Ver'alor Kwyntehst Quamar, has issued you a challenge, do you accept Ruus'alor?" The others all looked at him expectantly,

"Fine, I accept, hand to hand only"

"As it should be" The Al'verde said

"First off, it is no longer Ver'alor, I am an Alor'ad now, I was promoted. Secondly I want this over now, I wish to inspect my troops before both suns have risen." Cal just shook his head in disbelief and headed for the stairs that would take him outside. "Running off Nunes?" the recently promoted Alor'ad sneered.

"No" Cal snarled turning and nearly headbutting Quamar in the face. "I am heading to the challenge circle, where I will take care of you and your ass kissing" With that he stalked from the building. His HUD showed him that the four commanders were following him as well as almost the entire Ori' command staff. As he walked through camp, more and more warriors started to follow him, after being stood down from the alert everyone was awake and wanted a distraction.

"Rosario," He sent,

"Yes, Sol'yc" the veteran replied.

"I am headed to the challenge circle, you know what to do, I need the 5th."

"Affirmative"

The link went dead and Nunes knew that the 5th was mobilizing, they would be at the circle before him. After about ten minutes of walking he made it to the circle. The 5th stood silent around one side of the circle, Rosario out front with Mantisa who held the 5th's banner. Nunes entered the circle and walked across it to Rosario, the rest of the camp was gathering around. It wasn't every day that one got to see an officer and senior enlisted fight. Handing the ripper, and his rifle to Rosario, Nunes nodded to him, and then to the rest of the 5th. Rosario stuck the pistol in his belt, grabbing Nunes by the shoulders he looked him in the visor.

"Death and Honor"

"Death and Honor" Repeated Nunes, as they headbutted each other. Drawing his vibro-sword he advanced back into the circle. Standing haughtily on his side of the circle Quamar was posturing for the men and women gathered around. The Al'verde stood on the platform at the other end of the ring. He raised his hands for silence,

"Challenge has been made for command of the 5th. The combat will be fought until one combatant exits the ring, yields or dies. Do either of you wish to yield?"

Acting as cocky as he could the Alor'ad laughed

"Are you kidding me? I am going to make HIM yield" Nunes just shook his head 'No'.

"Very well, as neither party is willing to yield and neither will withdraw, let the challenge begin" The ring erupted in cheers from all the regular warriors who surrounded half the circle. The members of all five Ori'ramikade units just stood impassively by, watching the combat. The cocky upstart drew his sword and gestured with it.

"I am going to make you beg me to spare your life, Sol'yc" He sneered, Nunes set himself on guard and waited for the Alor'ad to make the first move, refusing to be baited. Finally realizing that the veteran wouldn't go for it, the young warrior feinted at Cal's head, it was almost the end of him as the veteran sent a riposte scything back towards him. It was all he could do to deflect the blow that left a scar down one shoulder pad. Cal immediately went back on guard and waited for the young man to attack again. This time the young warrior was much more careful, and it appeared that despite all his bluster and bravado, he might actually have some skill with the blade. The young warrior launched another strike towards the veteran, this time though he reversed the strike and struck Cal's right leg, the blow bounced off the armor but left a mark just the same. Unperturbed the veteran took the hit and simply punched the upstart in the visor causing his head to snap back, the smooth follow through left a long scar from the right shoulder to his left hip, the blade scything through the cheaper neo-crusader armor. Much deeper and it would have contacted the officer's skin.

The attack didn't stop there as the swing of the blade was followed up by a round house kick from the veterans left leg that sent the Alor'ad stumbling across the circle, and nearly out of it. He saw stars and his vision swam, warning lights appeared in his HUD, the damage to his armor was amazing, in three hits he was already damaged. Banishing the lights with a thought he spun back into the fight. He had been the top hand to hand fighter at the academy for officers and he would be damned if this enlisted laandu or weakling was going to show him up. Cal went back on guard, he hadn't even moved from his spot. Already the officer had a damaged buy'ce and his chest plate had a cut in it that exposed the under-suit. Again the officer came in, this time with the calculating of a combat master. He swung and feinted, with his sword, fists, and feet. Every time he was stopped with almost contemptuous ease by the battle hardened and seasoned veteran. Everything he did had been seen through the eyes of this vet thousands of times over. Frustrated he did something that the vet couldn't have expected. He threw his vibro-sword at the vet and stepped back. The whole gathering of warriors went quiet, this was not something they expected. For all intensive purposes the Alor'ad had just disarmed himself and was standing still.

"I would like to show you something Sol'yc," said the young officer as he produced what appeared to be a sword hilt from his belt. It was a hilt, with out a blade. "My father's father captured this on a raid to the Jedi temple in Coruscant many years ago. It has been passed down since. Now, I will use it to kill you." Though his interest was piqued Cal knew not to jump in, something unexpected had to be carefully approached. However,

"Bring it on you hu'tuun. I will beat you no matter what you throw at me." calling some one a coward in Mando'a was the worst possible insult one could use. It must have worked because the arrogant fung went stiff and muttered

"Hu'tuun, hu'tuun," his voice rose from a mutter to a scream, "I will show you who the hu'tuun is!" He raised his arm with the sword hilt in it and charged straight at Cal. Halfway through his swing that never would hit the Sol'yc, he pressed the activation button. A jet black blade of pure energy shot from the hilt in his hand. The blade was like the lightsabers of the Jedi, only this one instead of producing light, seemed to drink it in. The name of this weapon was 'darkblade' and was locked up as dangerous by the masters of the Jedi order. It didn't use plasma like all Jedi weapons, but instead had a strange void, what it touched ceased to exist.

Cal barely managed to bring his sword across to block the blow. His blade was made of Beskar and would stop a lightsaber. The two weapons struck, and held, the officer struck again, and again, and again, in a flurry of enraged blows. After a few moments and a hearty kick in the midriff from Cal's boot he backed off. Cal, spared a glance at his blade, it had spent innumerable battles with him, and had always come through with no more than a few scratches, now, it looked more like a saw blade then a sword. Massive rents were cut in the metal, some almost all the way through. His blade wouldn't last more than a few strikes against that cold black energy blade. Murmurs from around the circle could be heard, there were stories of this weapon, it had cut down hundreds upon thousands of enemies in the hands of Mandalorian warriors. But it was only a rumor, to see it in real life was something else. A chill crept down Cal's spine, that weapon was capable of shearing through Beskar'gam with ease. There was a chance, he had to try.

"Hu'tuun is right, not able to face a warrior with honor, you have to resort to trickery the way those wermo the Huts do." The officer went stock still, his arms shaking, "You have no honor, a Dar'manda one who doesn't honor his fathers." with a wordless roar the young officer brought blade up high, and struck with all his weight from high to low. Cal brought his blade up, it caught, then the darksaber cut fully two feet off his sword, the blade went flying into the air. The officers head followed the cut end of the blade, he should have been watching the remaining foot. Cal, stepped in and wrapped his left arm around the fungs helmet and wrenched his neck back. With every ounce of strength he drove the remaining length of his weapon up under the lip of the helmet and into the soft part of the chin. He pushed and felt the mangled weapon cut up through the mouth, and the palate.

With a final savage push he felt the blade slide home into the arrogant bastard's brain. The circle was quiet as he stood there, the dead man in his arm, the blade rammed all the way up to the cross guard in the officer's chin. Letting go of the body and the blade, both fell to the ground. The silence was broken by a cheer, and first one, than another of the standard warriors started cheering, the members of the Ori'ramikade stood silent. Some nodded but most just watched, watched as the 5th's Ruus'alor Sol'yc placed a booted foot on the dead man's arm and ripped the darksaber from his clenched grasp. He hooked it to a lanyard on his belt and turned towards his men, the cheering still going on behind him.

"Ruus'alor" the sound was drowned out by the cheering warriors. "SILENCE" the cheering ended abruptly. "Ruus'alor Sol'yc, front and center" The Al'verde's voice boomed through the now eerie silence. Turning on his heel, Cal faced the commander of the Ori'ramikade. With a slight hand motion he was beckoned forward, stepping over the corpse he approached the dais that the Al'verde was standing on. At another motion he knelt before the revered warrior.

"As per the laws, you have proved yourself a better warrior then," he motioned to the corpse. "You have the right to his possessions and," he paused, the hush was deafening. "You are also promoted to his rank. Congratulations Alor'ad Cal Nunes." Nodding Cal rose to his feet, but grumbled under his breath to himself. By all that was holy, he was a damn officer now. "Dismissed Alor'ad." Saluting, Cal turned on his heel again, on his way back he didn't step over the corpse, he stepped on it and kept on going. His men, and the rest of the Ori'ramikade simply stood at attention as he walked up to them. He now was the ranking officer in the Ori' platoons. Sighing he grumbled out.

"Dismissed" The commanders of each platoon took charge of their men and started heading back to their respective bunkers or tents. Rosario stood as straight as he could in front of the Alor'ad, "Damn it, Rosario, nothings changed, I am just a damn shiny is all. Get the men back to the tent."

"Aye, sir" he snapped out and started the men on their way.

"Damn that bloody man, even dead he still finds a way to piss me off." Grumpily mused Nunes. Everyone in camp was already acting different towards him as he stalked back to the 5th's tent. Walking through the front flap into the tent a resounding

"Officer on deck" was called out by the duty inside the door. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stood bolt upright.

"Damn it! I am still the same angry stubborn bastard that I have always been! Knock that shit off!" The men shuffled their feet and glanced from one to another, it HAD been a long time since the 5th had an officer.

"Well you heard em you bunch of lazy malignant no good excuses for warriors, get back to it." Rosario roared from the back of the cave. He continued to chew the men out in the way of all sergeants to enlisted the galaxy wide. The mood immediately lightened and everyone went back to what they were doing. Grumbling to himself, now in a VERY bad mood, Nunes stomped through the cave and entered the recess set aside for him. Sitting down rather heavily on the old battered ammo crates that protested at the treatment and the weight of him and his armor, he pulled the hilt of the darksaber from his belt and started to study it. After a few hours, the sounds of movement ceased in the other room and the cave became as still as a tomb. Sighing he wrapped a hand around the hilt of his new weapon and fell asleep on his cot. Tomorrow was another day in a war that had been going on forever.


	3. Appendix

Appendix:

All Rank Markings are located on the helmet and forearms of Mandalorians

Crusader – Original doctrine of Mandalorians Follow the 'old' ways

Neo-Crusader – Follows new doctrine, Armor is Red, Blue or Gold.

Ranks:

Manda'lor - Supreme commander and political head of the Mandalorians

Army Ranks

Field Marshal – Chief of Staff, Yellow Markings

Marshal – Directs 50,000 men. Purple Markings

Al'verde – Means 'Commander' Field Officer directs 5,000 men. Deep blue Markings

Rally Master – Command 1,000 men Crimson Markings

Alor'ad – Means 'Captain' Direct 100 men Brown Markings

Ver'alor – Means Lieutenant, junior officer, Directs 50 men Light blue Markings

Ruus'alor Sol'yc – Means 'First Sergeant' Senior Enlisted, Can command 50 men. Forest Green Markings

Tratur Ruus'alor – Means 'Staff Sergeant' Normally been in the military for 10 years Neon Green markings

Ruus'alor – 'Sergeant' Command 10 men. Green Markings

Alor'uus – 'Corporal' First Non-Commissioned officer command 5 men black markings

Verd'ika – Private very first rank, bulk of the military. Dull grey armor

Ori'ramikade – 'Mandalorian Commandos' veteran troops with extensive training commanded only by the Manda'lor

Ver'alor Alverde – 'Lieutenant Commander' executive officer

Tratur – roughly translates to 'Veteran' highly disciplined

Durasteel – Common metal used in Star Wars

Permacrete – basically super strong concrete

Phrik – Dense alloy that causes lightsabers to short out. Very rare, Mandalorians commited genocide of the Phrik species

Plasteel – most commonly used for armor, highly effective against melee and slug weapons, cannot stop blaster bolts

Transparisteel - transparent metal alloy, used for helmet visors and viewports on star ships

Mesh tape – Star Wars Duct Tape

Black Ale – as the name implies is a dark beer, equivalent to Guinness

Tihaar – Strong alcohol made of mixed fruit juice and aged until clear

Uj'alayi – Uj cake, is a dessert made with dried fruit and crushed nuts. Very sweet and soft.

Buy'ce – 'helmet' in Mando'a


End file.
